


Of Trees and Tchaikovsky

by Jabberwocky94



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Erik Has Feelings, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Traditions, anyway here’s wonderwall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabberwocky94/pseuds/Jabberwocky94
Summary: One last Christmas surprise.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Of Trees and Tchaikovsky

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the fruits of my sleep deprived writing frenzy.

“Erik!” Christine came bounding into the library. “I have another surprise for you!”

He closed the book he had been reading to focus his attention on her. “Whatever for?”

"For Christmas, of course!” She was positively beaming as she ran to him and hauled him to his feet. “Come on!”

As Erik trailed behind her, he wondered what more there could be to Christmas. He had already let her decorate their entire home with garlands and wreaths and even an evergreen in their sitting room. He had helped her prepare a veritable feast, a _julbord_ , as she called it. She had hung a small straw goat on the tree and placed lit candles on the mantel. He didn’t even know where she had found any of it besides the candles.

He followed Christine to the sitting room. “Sit down and close your eyes. Don’t peek,” she commanded.

Erik sat, eyes closed, and wished for the millionth time in the last three seconds that he had his mask. Christine had all but forbidden him to wear a mask unless they were expecting visitors, which never happened, or visiting someone, which rarely happened but did occasionally, or otherwise in the company of less facially challenged individuals.

It was easy to conceal his emotions behind the mask and without it, Christine could see the strange pinkish tint that came to his cheeks whenever certain _activities_ were mentioned or the hideous smile he gave far too often in her presence. She didn’t seem to mind but he still felt better when he could use the mask as a sort of crutch. Right now, for instance, it would be splendid to let his emotions disappear behind the black screen. 

“Here,” Christine said, placing something in Erik’s hands. “I didn’t know what you would want so I thought you might like this. _God Jul. Joyeux Noë_ _l._ ”

He opened his eyes. In his hands lay page after page of music. 

“Tchaikovsky,” she explained. “He wrote another ballet a few years ago and I thought it would make a nice gift.”

It did, indeed. “Erik is...Erik is very happy, but he doesn’t have a gift for Christine.”

Her face fell for a fraction of a second before returning to its standard optimistic smile. “Yes, you do!”

“No. No, Erik doesn’t. And now Christine won’t love him anymore!” 

She took the music and set it on the mantel before sliding onto his lap. “Do you truly believe that I only love you for what you can buy?”

“Why else would Christine love Erik?”

“Because.” She took his hands. “Because Erik is very good to Christine. And he puts up with all of her Christmas traditions even though he doesn’t like Christmas. And he makes her happy. Do I need a reason to love you?”

Erik was torn. Here was his darling Christine telling him she loved him and he still couldn’t accept it. He would never get used to her love. Part of him would never believe it. 

“Christine, I... Erik does love Christine very much. But he didn’t know she would want something for Christmas.”

“You’ve never celebrated it, have you?”

He shook his head. In his childhood house he had always been forced to spend the holiday season alone. He had barely even known there _was_ a holiday season.

“Well, you did get me something.”

“I did?”

Christine smiled. “You got _us_ something.”

“Erik doesn’t know - ”

“Erik, we’re going to have a baby.”

“We’re going to have a _what_?”

She beamed at him once more. “A baby!”

His mind raced. A baby. A _baby_. It could have his face. It could be ostracised. When he was gone, when Christine was gone, who would care for it? Who would be kind?

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes, but - ”

“No buts. Look,” she giggled, pointing upwards. His gaze followed her finger all the way up to some strategically placed mistletoe. She shifted on top of him to face him squarely.

“Christine, you little vix - ”

She kissed him. Hungrily. Passionately. His mind was still going through every worst case scenario that could happen with a baby of his. Erik hadn’t even known he was enough of a human to create a child. But clearly he was. And clearly she didn't mind, considering the way her fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer.

“Is this how most people celebrate Christmas?” He could barely breathe.

“I suppose so,” Christine grinned.

Erik made a rather unmusical noise somewhere between a groan and a grunt. “I could afford to celebrate.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think Erik uses third-person pronouns most of the time but maybe when he’s caught off-guard or generally surprised he uses first-person pronouns like in the musical.
> 
> Anyway I sprained my ankle and burned my thumb today so how was y'all's Christmas


End file.
